


The Snark, It Burns

by ladyoneill



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dirty Thoughts, Gen, Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped in Eichen House, Peter is bored until Stiles stops by with a problem and awakens his intellect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Snark, It Burns

**Author's Note:**

> Set a year after Season 4, ignoring Valak. I didn't use the underage warning because Peter just has a couple inappropriate thoughts about Stiles. Written for Pic for 1000, [Inspired by this image](http://www.flickr.com/photos/lumiere_en_juin/4493392323/in/photostream/lightbox/)

"Just because Derek punched through a brick wall once doesn't mean you can punch your way out of six inch thick bulletproof glass."

"The snark, it burns." Peter rolls over on his cot to stare at the cement wall--it's laced with mountain ash which is why he went for the glass. Sadly, a couple dozen blows only caused a couple of small holes and some cracks.

"So, why now, creeperwolf?"

Peter glares at the wall, wishing the annoying gnat would go away.

"I mean, you've been a model, if psychopathic, prisoner."

"I'm a sociopath, you twit."

"Psychotic sociopath?" 

The glee in the brat's voice makes Peter want to lunge for the glass again and pound his way through it. Whether to shut Stiles up by strangling him or kissing him, he's not quite sure, which is why he just buries his face in his pillow.

"And where would you have gone anyway? I mean, there are guards right behind that solid steel door, which, I might add, you'd never get through without a key and the multi digit, randomly changing code."

"Maybe I was bored," he snaps, then mentally curses himself for engaging the boy.

"So you decided to take out your boredom on the defenseless glass?"

"Go. Away."

Stiles snorts again. "Nope. If you're that bored, you can help me."

"Die? I'd be happy to help you die." Finally, he rolls over and sits up, still graceful despite the wolfsbane running through his blood and the poor diet from a year of confinement in this hellhole.

The brat is grinning at him, amber eyes dancing in evil pleasure. The wolf rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall, ignoring the tingle the ash sends through him.

"So, you gonna help me?"

"Die?" he asks, shooting him a grin that's all teeth.

This time Stiles rolls his eyes. "If I died, who'd keep you entertained? Derek, who comes here out of guilt? Scott, who visits you because he feels it's his duty? Malia? Oh, wait, she hasn't visited you at all."

Unable to shift, Peter manages a weak growl.

He's still not sure whether he wants to kill the boy.

Or fuck him.

Outside the cell, Stiles sobers up and takes a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolds it and slaps it up against the glass. "This thing has been terrorizing the northern side of town near the Preserve for the last week, but no one seems to be able to lock onto its scent to track it. So far it's only eaten small wild animals and a couple family pets, but we're afraid it's working its way up to humans."

Unable to stop himself, Peter peers at the hand drawn image. "Who drew that?"

"Lydia," Stiles replies reluctantly.

"Gives more credence to the 'it's going to start killing humans' theory," Peter murmurs as he sends his unused genius running through the grimoires and bestiaries in the Hale collection. "What body parts is it leaving behind?"

Stiles startles, then shoots him a disgruntled look. "Why don't you tell me?"

Smirking, Peter asks, "Tails?"

"...Yes. The possum one was particularly gross."

"If I tell you, what will it get me?"

"My gratitude."

If the gritted teeth and sharp glare are evidence, giving him that much burns.

Peter waves that off, though, because gratitude doesn't give him anything but a mild tingle of pleasure--which might be the mountain ash at his back. "I'd rather have the latest George R.R. Martin novel. I'd just finished 'A Feast for Crows' when this unfortunate imprisonment occurred."

Mouth dropping open, Stiles gives him a surprised look. "You like 'A Song of Ice and Fire'?"

"I'm impressed you didn't refer to it by the name of the television show."

"Let me guess, you like Cersei."

"Tyrion."

Stiles' eyes widen even more, then narrow. "Why?"

"Because he's extremely intelligent and everyone discounts that. I empathize with that. I'm sure you do, too," Peter adds softly.

"Intelligent people don't get themselves locked away in the looney bin," Stiles scoffs.

Peter bites back the instinctive 'you did' and just shrugs. "So, will you get me the book?"

"Do you really know what this thing is? Because Deaton and Argent don't."

"I do. And I'll graciously help you with only the promise of reward."

"Magnanimous of you," the boy snips as he refolds the picture, then gives a heaving sigh. "Fine. I'll bring you the book, if you're right."

He's still enough of a werewolf to hear the truth in Stiles' heartbeat, so he nods and says, "In our vault, there's an old sea chest with a false bottom. You'll need Derek's claws to open it, along with the vault itself, of course."

"I just need a name!"

Peter continues over the protest, "Under that false slat is a book. It's very old. Don't expose it to fresh air. I believe you want chapter six, section ten. That will give you not only the name, but how to find and kill it."

"You better not be shitting me, Peter," Stiles grumbles as he stomps away.

"I want a hardback!"

"Whatever, zombiewolf!"

*****

Three days later Stiles returns and stops outside the glass, frowning at the hole. "Why haven't they fixed this?"

"They believe that leaving it cracked but not broken enough for me to escape will demoralize me."

"They don't know you, do they."

It's not a question, and Peter smirks because, of all of them, only Stiles really understands him. Oddly enough, he's okay with that. "So?"

"Yeah, we killed it." Digging into his backpack, he pulls out a book, holding it up to show him the cover. A guard steps up and takes the book, then opens the food slot and places it on the shelf.

Peter knows to wait for the slot to be locked before going for the book. He can't hide his eagerness, though, not from Stiles, who grins and nods before leaving.

It's acknowledgment enough.

Peter knows he'll be back.

End


End file.
